


a cup of steam

by tonberrys



Series: Zutara Week [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, ZK Week 2017, Zutara Week, Zutara Week 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 03:57:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11615397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonberrys/pseuds/tonberrys
Summary: For Zutara Week 2017, Day 3: Steamy. Every tea shop celebration benefits from a little bit of steam. (AU take on the Book 3 finale)





	a cup of steam

**Author's Note:**

> AU Canon Tweak Note: In this, Mai was not able to talk to Zuko prior to the coronation and is not present at the Jasmine Dragon party, as a result…

Laughter had bubbled up around them as they gathered around Sokka’s scribbled ‘portrait,’ and passionate protests erupted in a flurry of debates about hair loopies, facial expressions, illogical bending -- yet just as quickly as it has risen, again the Jasmine Dragon had fizzled to a low and lively rumble of conversation as Team Avatar settled into their tea. Zuko’s gaze shifted from person to person, this mishmash of nations gathered in his uncle’s Earth Kingdom tea shop, and he thought them all to be the furthest from what he had expected from his life. The air nomad Avatar, two southern water tribers, a Kyoshi Warrior, a blind earthbender -- even his wise but kooky uncle, who he had pushed away so thoroughly for so long. Though anxiety still knotted in his stomach at the thought of leading his nation to peace after so many years of warmongering, he trusted these people more than he trusted himself, and the barest hint of a smile settled on his face.

“Hey, is there any more tea?” Sokka called out, waving an inky paintbrush in Zuko’s direction. “My creative process needs some more fuel!”

Katara snorted from beside her brother. “I don’t know that ‘more fuel’ is what your creative process needs.”

A fresh wave of conversation rose for a moment as Sokka exclaimed his offense at the pointed slight against his artistry, punctuated by the rustle of sniggers and laughs. Zuko set the tea to boil (with a firebending boost to set it on its way) as his eyes were drawn to Aang, who was slipping away from the group. The younger boy paused not far outside the doors, framed by the orangey glow of the setting sun and the scenic surroundings of Ba Sing Se’s Upper Ring. All of them had trudged through a long day of responsibility, marking the closing of one era and the dawn of another. They had changed so much -- all of them -- and when Zuko dared to imagine what kind of person he might be right now if it weren't for these experiences with these people…

(With a shiver, he thought of Azula, roaring blue flames like some mad dragon; his father, drained of his bending and a cruel smile twisting his lips.)

A flash of mint-green movement caught Zuko’s eyes as Katara rose to follow Aang outside, and no amount of effort could tear his gaze away. In Zuko’s chest, a sharp pang twisted deep and jagged. (Jealousy? She wasn’t even his girlfriend, and yet-)

And yet lurching terror echoed fresh as his mind flashed with a bolt of lightning zapping towards Katara. She had nearly died -- at the hands of his sister. He had nearly died -- but Katara had brought him back from the brink. It didn’t seem his place, somehow, to intrude on their dynamics when he had terrorized them for so long, but Katara...somehow she was different from the others; an unexpectedly cool balm to the deepest roots of his anger; a kindred spirit he could have never predicted.

Around Katara, he felt secure, understood, accepted -- and though he suspected he was just setting himself up for a world of hurt, his treacherous feelings were relentless. Somehow, he had stupidly managed to fall in love with Katara, and even as she stood beside the Avatar, he couldn’t help but stare.

“...ko! Earth to Zuko, the tea!” Sokka was calling out with a strain of distress in his voice.

Steam was shooting out of the teapot with a piercing screen, clouding around him angrily and successfully snapping Zuko to attention once again; when his eyes darted from Katara back to the shrieking tea, he saw that the bottom of the pot was charring. Hurriedly he bent away the fire in an extinguishing sweep, though the heated cloud of moisture lingered as he tried to wave it away with one hand. With the other hand, he lifted the spitting pot and poured some into a cup. The smell wasn’t quite right…But tea was tea, how bad could it be?

After setting down the kettle, Zuko picked up the individual cup and walked it over to Sokka. “Here you go.”

“A little distracted there?” Toph teased with a face-splitting grin -- a grin that grew larger still as he felt his heart jolt awkwardly in his chest. (Was Toph spying on his heartbeat right now?)

Leaning forward against the table, Sokka took a sip, made a face, and spit it back out. “Uck, it’s bitter -- what did you do to it?!”

Annoyance flashed hot and sharp and rapid as Zuko crossed his arms defensively, smothering the softened vulnerabilities from just moments before. “I didn’t do anything to it. It’s just tea!”

“I think you burned it. I didn’t even know you could burn liquids,” Sokka added with a little more drama than was entirely necessary, mirrored by Zuko’s huffing visage.

“Then make your own tea!”

“I’m just saying...” Sokka started with a shrug, leaning into Suki.

Though his friend was still saying something about the disappointing tea situation, Zuko shifted his attention outside again, running a restless hand through his hair. The steam was finally dissipating, and against the bright-orange sky, he saw Aang and Katara lean in for a hug. A painful hook tugged in his chest, but when Katara pulled back and pressed a light kiss on the top of Aang’s head, the young boy’s downturned face told of a story Zuko could only guess at but hesitated to hope for.

Aang was still standing outside, alone with his thoughts, when Katara came back into the shop and sat down at her table again, taking her lukewarm cup of tea between two hands. For a moment, Zuko’s feet stuck to the floor like the steel grip of some terrible beast was holding him in place, but as he watched her staring into the cup with unfettered intensity, he found that his feet loosened gradually, with some small internal nudge pushing him forward. One step in front of the other, stride by stride until he was standing beside her -- then sitting beside her.

“It looks like your tea cooled off,” he started conversationally, and he found he was rewarded with the immediate attention of those bright blue eyes. “Allow me?” Holding out his hands, he waited a beat -- and then Katara slipped the cup into his palms.

“But not too hot,” she clarified.

“I’ll be careful,” he said, and he meant it.

Wholly concentrated, Zuko gently blew into the cup, steam rising in soft billows around the stream of air. Against his palms, he could feel the cup warming, and for a moment he paused, felt to make sure it didn’t reach an uncomfortable temperature before handing it back to Katara.

She took a moment to breathe in the scent -- ginseng -- and smiled with a warmth that reached her eyes as the steam tickled her nose. After taking a slow, tentative sip for testing, she granted him a nod of approval.

“Perfect,” she declared, though her attention seemed to be drawn to something behind Zuko’s head. When Zuko twisted to see, Sokka was still blowing on his cup; Zuko couldn’t tell if it was the same cup or a fresh replacement, courtesy of their resident teamaster, but whichever it was, Sokka looked as though he hadn’t entirely given up on it.

As he twisted back around again, his eyes met Katara’s -- and she hastily looked down at the tea she was sipping, seemed to pause for a lingering second, then looked back up again with a small smile as she lowered her drink.

“How are you doing? We haven’t really had much chance to talk…” she ventured, reaching out a hand to touch her fingertips to the middle of his chest -- right over the burn mark left by his sister’s lightning. His scars had always been deeply personal, a source of discomfort buried beneath the implications they came with, but he did not flinch; rather, a different kind of electricity buzzed over him, creeping from his chest in every direction until his fingers tingled and his head clouded with a thin fog that pinkened his cheeks, if briefly. Zuko could feel his heartbeat against her fingers, and judging by the light flush that rose in her cheeks, he thought she probably could. As her fingers dropped, she added, “Does it still hurt?”

Zuko shook his head. Again, his mind flashed with memories he’d sooner forget. “Not the burn, no.”

Understanding flashed in her eyes as her expression sobered and softened. “We’re going to change the world, Zuko. And you’re a key part of that.”

This time, it was his hand that she grasped, and though he would normally be embarrassed by how quickly his fingers responded in turn, he could only think that she seemed akin to a rope thrown out to man overboard -- a hand he would be stupid not to hold onto.

“I know,” Zuko said, and he did know, yet his father’s shadowy smirk darkened the back of his mind, grabbed at his heels every time he thought he was out of reach from the thoughts and feelings that had plagued him all his life. _What would his father do_. “I feel stupid saying this because I’ve always wanted to be Fire Lord -- I’ve always known that was my destiny -- but right now, I just…” He paused, eyes flicking to make sure the others were still busy with their own conversations -- then again, he spoke, the words starting to tumble uncomfortable. “I just don’t want to be like my father. If I ever slip, if I ever fall-”

A hand covered his mouth, startling him silent. “Then I am going to catch you,” she said firmly, but not unkindly. “Don’t think for a second I would let you backslide.” If oceans could burn, he thought it might look something like color of her eyes at that moment, a beautiful blue reflecting the gold coloring of his own, steam still rising from the cup of tea set again on the table beside them. The words might have seemed harsh, once -- in fact, they were not so dissimilar from the echoing threats hurled at him during their admittedly rocky beginning -- but there was an enveloping sincerity that blanketed him, a sweet promise of security that made him ache. (For once, it was an ache that mended, rather than broke.)

It was then that Zuko realized he had been holding his breath, and as he slowly exhaled, Katara dropped her hand with still-flushed cheeks. “So trust me, okay? Trust in us.” The flush faded into a smile. “ _We_ trust _you._ If you ever started acting like your father, we’re not afraid to knock a little sense into you,” she started with a wry smile before it gave way to sincerity once again, “but honestly, you have a good heart, Zuko, and that is not something the two of you have in common.”

“Hey, if you two are done staring soulfully into each other’s eyes, it’s apparently time for the fireworks,” Toph cut in, digging a pinky into her ear nonchalantly. “Yippee.”

“What- We’re not-”

“Whatever, Sugar Queen.” Toph turned to follow the rest of the group outside. “I’ll be getting ready for literally the most pointless way I could possibly spend my evening, so you should too. The things I do for you people…”

When Toph had passed the outside threshold of the tea shop, Zuko glanced down to see he was still clasping Katara’s hand, as if fused. He ought to let go, ought to pass this moment and move on to avoid the inevitable fallout, but subtly, slowly he leaned forward, eyes watching hers. Awkwardness and uncertainty flopped restlessly in his stomach, their breath a mingling call for the clash of fire and water.

Voices drifting from outside pulled him back, broke that pleasant haze floating around them, and though Zuko could feel the rush of embarrassment creeping over his features, the subtle flicker at the corner of Katara’s mouth and the cooling heat in her eyes steadied him. Though their hands unlocked wordlessly, thudding hearts were not so easily quieted, and her touch lingered on his skin well into the evening.

Theirs was an element of steam, and though Zuko knew he ought to focus on the fireworks and his brooding worries about his father -- he thought of little else.


End file.
